


The Minutia of Domestication

by hellostarlight20



Series: Days of Domesticity [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Domesticaiton, F/M, NSFW, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 08:56:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6111466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellostarlight20/pseuds/hellostarlight20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>@thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad said: If you're still in the mood for prompts... ;P NinexRose (with Jack making an appearance too if it's not too much to ask) - Rose is invited to a wedding and has to buy a dress for the occassion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Minutia of Domestication

“I don’t see why you can’t use a dress from the Wardrobe Room,” the Doctor grumbled and folded his arms over his chest.

Rose merely raised an eyebrow and offered that slow smile, the one where her gorgeously plump lips spread wide and her tongue teased him from the corner of said gorgeous mouth. Her eyes sparkled with laughter and their telepathic bond burned with desire.

If Jack wasn’t standing at the stove, sautéing the Boeshane Peninsula vegetables they finally coaxed into growing in the TARDIS’s garden, the Doctor knew he’d bend Rose over the table for such blatant teasing. Remind her who was in charge and who was his very willing lover.

She knew it too. No need for a telepathic conversation. In the two years since bonding, she rarely needed their connection to know what he thought or felt.

Rose licked her lips and sauntered the short distance between them. Jack seemed to ignore them, but the Doctor knew better. He didn’t spare a glance for the other man, however. She stopped in front of him, hands on his forearms. He gently brushed a strand of long blonde hair off her cheek and settled his hands on her hips.

“It’s for a simple wedding on Earth,” she said softly. “One of my mates from before, I told you.” 

She ran her fingertips up his arms, traced the neckline of his jumper. He wasn’t fooled. Her body buzzed with energy, hummed with arousal. She knew exactly what he thought and welcomed it—welcomed everything he did to her. With her.

“I don’t want anyone talking about my weird clothing by wearing that absolutely gorgeous green dress from the 70th century out of material they never heard of.”

The Doctor’s fingers tightened on her hips. She didn’t frown or look away or any other obvious sign of discomfort. She didn’t have to. He had stood next to her when Jackie laid into her for not being more _human_. For putting on _airs and graces_ with her fancy alien lover and her fancy alien clothes.

Stood silently next to her as they listened to Jackie go on and on about not embarrassing _her_ at the Christmas party with his alien-ness. The only reason he hadn’t snapped was Rose begging him not to. He still regretted listening to her.

That was not how he loved hearing her beg. But Jackie was her mum and Rose asked. So of course he agreed.

“Rose.” The endearment caught in his throat. 

“Doesn’t matter.” The words barely a breath between them, she met his gaze and shook her head. “She’s getting better. More accepting.”

The Doctor wasn’t so certain, but carefully locked his skepticism away. He’d see how Jackie acted at this wedding and then act. This time he refused to keep silent.

Rose’s shoulders eased and she hummed appreciatively. Apparently he hadn’t been as successful at locking away his emotions as he thought. Then again, she didn’t really need their bond to know what he thought.

She pressed her body closer to his, fingertips just grazing the nape of his neck. “You know the dress, Doctor,” her voice lowered, smile sultry and inviting. 

The Doctor growled, fingers tightening on her hips. He did know. And didn’t want anyone else seeing her in that dress of utter perfection. The one that clung to each of her very generous curves. The one that barely concealed those lovely generous curves.

The one where she was completely naked underneath. 

She leaned closer, guiding his head down. Her lips brushed his cheek, teeth tugged his ear. The Doctor shivered, unable to stop another growl. He felt Rose’s lips curve, even as her body shivered in his arms.

“You can come shopping with me,” she whispered, the words a breath along his skin. “Help me zip up the dresses. Help me...change out of them.” 

“Rose.” The Doctor stopped, swallowed. He pulled back and grimaced. “I hate shopping.”

That damn smile never left her lips. She tilted her head just slightly, smile firmly in place.

“All right,” she said easily. “I’ll take Jack then. Jack,” she called, raising her voice slightly but never looking from him. “You want to come shopping with me? I need a dress for this wedding.” She paused and when she spoke next, the Doctor knew exactly what she was going to say.

“You can help me with the zippers.”

“Of course, Rosie,” Jack said easily.

The Doctor snarled at Jack. Jack, though the Doctor didn’t bother to look at him, grinned widely. He knew it without seeing the smug grin: the man was predictable. Then again, he was as well.

Rose snickered. The Doctor’s fingers flexed on her hips and tugged her closer. His mouth took hers, the kiss hard and fast and possessive. One hand pressed her lower back against his hips, the hardness of his cock. Rose shivered in his arms and whimpered against his mouth.

And that was how he found himself dragged through a semi-crowded street in West London on a cold, rainy morning.

“Rose,” he sighed as she opened the door to the second boutique. But he held the glass door with one hand, the other guiding her inside, out of the wind and drizzle. Rose merely grinned over her shoulder, eyes dark.

“Yes, Doctor?” she asked in that low, wicked voice that promised every divine pleasure imaginable.

He pulled her to him, her body easily molding against his. Her warmth, despite the changes to her DNA, addicting. And her scent, the glorious scent of Rose and love and need that clung to her skin and soaked the air. All for him.

Their telepathic bond sparked and opened, and when Rose looked up, caught his gaze, he felt the throbbing arousal of her need as clearly as if he caressed her bare skin.

“Don’t tease, my little minx.” The words rumbled through him, and his breath brushed the shell of her ear.

Rose shivered, hips jerking against him just the slightest. Even after all this time, all they meant to each other and all the fantastic ways they had sex, he wanted her with a blinding passion. His hands tightened on her lush hips and he didn’t bother controlling his body’s reaction to her.

“Can I help you?” a pleasant, if strained, voice asked.

The Doctor looked up to the redheaded saleswoman who looked anything but happy to help. She eyed them, lips pursed, and none-too-patiently waited.

“Hi.” Rose turned from his embrace and smile brightly at the woman. “Donna,” she added with a nod to the woman’s nametag. “I need a dress for a wedding.”

Donna eyed him again more suspiciously than warranted, and smiled at Rose. “When’s the wedding?” she asked and stepped back.

He felt Rose’s uncertainty—the wedding was one of her and Mickey’s mates from the estate, one she hadn’t seen in three years. Not since months before they started traveling together. Somehow Mickey and Jackie talked her into going. Guilted her more like, with their constant refrain of never seeing her.

“What’s today’s date?” he asked, finding Rose’s hand.

She squeezed his in return, and her confusion and doubt changed to relief. And love, it overflowed along their bond, warm and bright and the Doctor took a moment to bask in it.

Donna, who didn’t seem to like him very much, gave him the stink eye again. “February the fourteenth,” she snapped. 

“Oh, is it?” Rose asked and her mood shifted again. But she swiftly blocked that off and, with a final squeeze to his hand, released her hold on him and stepped around Donna. “The wedding is the middle of March. I was thinking something…” she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Green.”

Images of Rose in that green slinky dress from Lemoingtong III danced in his mind’s eye. The Doctor growled again and shoved his hands in his leather coat pockets. Donna continued to ignore him as she and Rose chatted about sleeve length, skirt flare, and straps versus halter.

He only partly understood what any of that meant, and then only because he shared wardrobe space with Rose for the last two years. So he wandered into the lingerie section. Where Jack found him.

“I think that corset will look good on you, Doc.”

“I don’t have the legs for it.” The Doctor scowled at his snappish tone. He’d wanted to make it a joke, but the fact Rose wasn’t telling him something bothered him. Worried him.

“Hey.” Jack held up his hands and looked critically at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He slammed the hanger onto the rack and stalked to the center of the store. They were hardly the only ones in _No Time to Waste_. In fact, it was strangely filled with a large number of frantic men pawing through the lingerie.

So strangely filled with men pawing through women’s lingerie he actually scanned for alien parasites or mind control. Hadn’t found any, which only served to confuse him more.

“What’s February the fourteenth?” The words slipped out and he clenched his jaw on a curse.

Jack’s eyebrow raised. “A date on the Common Earth Calendar before the Great Expansion.”

The Doctor glared balefully at him. “What’s the significance of this date on the Common Earth Calendar then?”

Jack shrugged. “No idea. Why?”

“It’s today, apparently, and when Donna mentioned it Rose closed off our bond.” The Doctor looked to where Rose and Donna animatedly talked over several dresses and shoe pairings.

Rose turned her head just enough to look at him. She smiled as if nothing was wrong, Eyes bright, hair sliding over her shoulders as easily as her smile lighted her face. But he felt it. That strange vibration along their telepathic link that told him she blocked something from him.

When they first bonded, Rose opened each door to her every memory, thought, feeling, and desire, and kept those doors wide open to him since. Her being closed off now physically hurt.

He rubbed his temples and tried not to let his worry bleed through their bond.

“Oh, Doc.” Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll fix this.”

“Fix it?” he echoed. “I don’t even know what’s wrong!”

He glared at Jack, but it wasn’t his friend’s fault. The simple fact remained; he was rubbish at domestic. He forgot Rose’s birthday. Twice.

He had no idea how Rose managed to figure out their one year anniversary (the Doctor suspected TARDIS interference). When he looked blankly at her, and the romantic dinner she and Jack painstakingly put together, he knew he’d blown it.

Mostly he was okay with living everyday life with Rose. They traveled—new ground beneath their feet, new sky overhead. They shagged. Oh, did they shag. Even now his fingers itched to feel her soft skin, her body humming with arousal as he brought her to orgasm again and again. The magnificent taste of her pleasure as it exploded over his tongue.

They laughed and met people and bailed Jack out of prison when he accidently flirted with the wrong being. And Jack bailed them out when they forgot public shagging wasn’t proper in 10 out of 10 planets they landed on.

And they ran. Oh, did they run.

The Doctor ran a hand over his face and sighed. “Yeah.”

Sympathetic, Jack clapped him on the shoulder and nodded. “You stay here. I’ll save that very fine arse of yours.” He paused and added, “Why are there so many men in here? I’m all about free love, and I really am sure you’d look fantastic in a corset, but this seems a little…disproportionate for the time period.”

The Doctor shrugged and looked at the increasingly frantic men. “No sign of alien mind control or parasitic influence.”

“You scanned them?” Jack asked, highly amused.

He snorted. “Course. Rose is here.”

Jack merely nodded and let the matter drop. Rose might know how to take care of herself, but neither man played games with her safety.

His gaze drifted to Rose once more and he didn’t even have the energy to scowl. A faint headache throbbed behind his left eye and the Doctor was reminded of the emptiness in his head just after the Time War. When every single Time Lord voice winked out of existence by his own hand.

Rose closing off even the smallest portion of her mind _hurt_.

 _What’s wrong, love?_ she asked, watching him as Donna sorted through a rack of dresses they chose.

The Doctor wanted to ask her that very same question. He wanted to know why she closed off even a single emotion from him. But that was selfish and greedy. Instead he grinned at her from across the store.

 _Where do you want to eat after you find a dress?_ he asked instead. _There’s a Persian restaurant down the street._

She nodded—at him and Donna—and smiled over her shoulder. She looked happy and relaxed and he never wanted her to be otherwise. _Sounds perfect. Then ice cream. I’m in the mood for ice cream._

His lips quirked up slightly and he almost laughed despite the day. _In the middle of February?_

_Is there ever a bad time to have ice cream?_

The Doctor did laugh then and the band tightening his hearts eased. When they first bonded, well, after when they had a chance to talk about it and get used to the idea of constantly being inside each other’s heads, he’d told her if ever she needed to close off anything—emotion, thought, mood, whatever—he understood.

Now that she had, the Doctor had absolutely no right to be upset by it. None.

“You have a problem, Doc.”

That band tightened right back around his hearts. He looked warily at Jack and noted the other man used the second person you as opposed to the more common we he normally did.

“Problem?” he grunted and hoped that little tick up at the end didn’t sound as panicked as he thought it did.

“It’s Valentine’s Day.”

The Doctor frowned. “What?” His gaze drifted to Rose and he wondered what on Earth (literally) Jack meant.

“Valentine’s Day, the day of hearts and flowers, of sappy romance cards and chocolates.” Jack snickered but when the Doctor glared at him he realized it was more in confusion than laughter.

“I’m supposed to buy Rose a card?” the Doctor asked, mind blank at the very prospect.

“Oh, Doctor.” Jack shook his head. “You show her the stars, what can a card possibly say? No.” He shook his head again. “But something romantic.”

He glared at Jack, but once again it wasn’t his best friend’s fault. The Doctor wasn’t sure whose fault it was, actually. Frustrated, he ran a hand over his face, scrubbed at his hair. Who did one blame for being caught completely flatfooted over a very odd Earth tradition?

_Want to help me with the zipper?_

The Doctor looked up at Rose’s grinning face, the happy, seductive look she gave him clear across the store as if they were alone in their bedroom and not in a crowded shop.

_Oh, yes._

He quickly crossed to the fitting rooms, ignored Donna’s continued stink eye and her warning. “No funny business in the fitting rooms,” she snapped. “I’m not cleaning up after that.”

Rose snickered but called out, “Don’t worry, Donna. We’ll behave.”

Then she snickered again.

“When do we ever behave?” he asked and slipped into the oversized room, firmly closing the door behind him.

“I think she’ll have your bits if we try anything,” Rose said and tugged her jumper over her head. “And I quite like all your bits.” That last was said primly. The smile she sent him was absolutely filthy.

He wanted to ask her about Valentine’s Day. Wanted to know how important it was to her. Wanted to shower her with flowers and chocolates and whatever else she wanted. But he knew, didn’t he. He knew it was at least moderately important, what with the way she closed off when Donna mentioned the date.

Returning her wicked grin, the Doctor slid his fingers along her waist, just under the fabric of her jeans. If he was good—and he was very, very good—he’d be able to find out without last-minute-resorting-to-pawing-through-lingerie like those men outside.

“You have to be quiet, Rose,” he whispered, purposefully speaking the words.

Rose’s breath caught and the passion that simmered along their bond, along her skin, all day sparked to life. He felt it in the heat of her skin. Heard it in the rush of her blood, the quickening of her heart. Her hands reached up to cup her breasts, fingers tugging already hard nipples, dark eyes locked on his.

“If Donna hears you,” he continued, slowly unbuttoning her jeans. “She’ll come after me. And then I’ll have to punish you.”

Her breath left in a whoosh. In the relative silence of the fitting room the Doctor heard her breathing, loud and fast. Rose shook her long hair back and licked her lips. Otherwise she didn’t move, didn’t arch into him, simply stood there and watched.

Waited.

Perfection.

“Can you do that? Can you be quiet? Can you be good, Rose?”

She nodded, just once. “Yes, Doctor.”

His fingers slid lower, taking jeans and knickers with him. He tossed the jeans onto the bench and pocketed the knickers. Rose whimpered. Good.

The Doctor knelt before her and wrapped his arms around her legs, slid his fingers up the inside of her thighs, so smooth against his rough, calloused hands. She whimpered again but didn’t otherwise make as sound. Not even a plea of more. Excellent.

He wanted to take his time. Tease her until her breaking point. They’d done this sort of play for two years. He knew how to make her scream until she grew hoarse. Make her come until her body was so sensitive she begged him to stop. Draw out her pleasure until she bucked mindlessly against him.

Today he had other plans. They needed to be quick—for all he’d known her an hour, Donna scared him. Plus he didn’t like sharing Rose.

No matter how wet and aroused she grew at the prospect of public sex.

Without warning he thrust his fingers inside her. Rose jerked against him, but dutifully remained silent. He watched her, watched her fingers tighten on her breasts, her eyes locked on his. She shifted slightly, opened her legs wider.

For another long moment, the Doctor simply knelt before her, a willing supplicant. Leaning forward, he tasted her. She exploded across his senses, hot, wet Rose. Her very essence the only meal he ever wanted. Ever desired.

True to his word, he worked quickly. Built her up with fingers and mouth and teeth. Banded one arm tight around her hips to hold her against him. She gasped when his fingers slid deeper and he added a third.

She exploded around him. Other than her quickened breathing, she kept silent, though her mental shout echoed in his ears. And through his hearts. He looked up at her, fingers buried in her heat, mouth coated with essence of Rose.

She breathed hard, body trembling, knees shaking, and he easily caught her. His own cock ached to be buried in her slickness, but he resisted the temptation. Her temptation. Barely.

“I’m thinking the blue dress,” he said and easily stood despite his own desire and throbbing cock.

“What?” She blinked at him, face flushed, lip red from where she bit it. He ran his thumb over its plumpness and leaned in to gently kiss her.

She sighed against his mouth, lips lazy against his. Rose never jerked away from her own taste. Her fingers danced along the back of his neck, body limp in his arms.

“Doctor,” Rose breathed and smiled gently at him.

He brushed her check, pressed his lips to the top of her head, and simply held her, fully supporting her weight. Rose rested her head on his chest as her heart slowed and her breath evened out. The Doctor ran his hand down her back, slowly up again.

Eventually she pulled back, mouth slowly smiling in that soft special way she had. She cleared her throat and looked at the dress options.

“Blue.” He nodded toward said dress, a floor-length creation that shimmered in the harsh overhead lights. The halter meant no bra—a fact the Doctor loved—and if he wasn’t mistaken, and he rarely was, the way it’d cling to her curves meant no knickers.

Rose blinked at him again and grinned. That slow grin that stretched her lips wide and yes. There it was, that gloriously talented tongue teasing him from the corner of her mouth.

“That’s my favorite.”

She quickly shed her bra and took the dress from the hanger. He was right—it hugged each and every curve, from her gorgeous breasts to her superb arse.

The Doctor had a feeling he was not going to keep his hands off her during this rubbish wedding.

(Rose knew it.)

“Rose?” Donna called from outside the door, sounding a cross between curious and concern. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah, Donna.” Rose opened the door and poked her head out. “I’ll take the blue one.”

Over Rose’s head the Doctor saw Donna’s grin, but didn’t understand it.

“And the shoes, of course.”

Donna nodded. “Of course.”

She turned and left, and Rose raised her arms over her head. The zipper ran down her side, and he carefully pulled it down, purposefully letting his fingers trail over every inch of pale skin.

“How about lunch?” he asked, suddenly remembering it was Valentine’s Day.

“You know,” Rose said as she redressed.

Such a pity to cover up her body, but alas—he truly was a jealous man and didn’t want anyone else seeing the splendidness that was his lover.

“I don’t need anything fancy.”

“What?” The Doctor pulled his gaze from her arse and blinked at her. “Fancy what?”

“I thought I did,” Rose continued as she tied her sneakers. “I never had any of that with Mickey and was always so jealous when everyone else got flowers or chocolates or whatnot.”

“Rose—”

She stood and hugged him close. Once more her entire being opened to him and that faint headache vanished as if it never happened.

“I love you.” She pulled back and gave him a soft smile. “And you’ve given me flowers, an entire garden full of them. And chocolates, remember that gorgeous chocolate on New Flepon?”

He nodded slowly and wondered how his day had changed so drastically.

“I don’t need any of that. I just need you.” She ducked her head, suddenly—and uncharacteristically—bashful. “You show me so much more than I ever thought I’d have, Doctor. I don’t need a single day to remember that. I remember it every single day.”

Her kiss was soft and oh so full of promise. And hope. And love, that never-ending well of love she had for him. The love he continued to feel unworthy of but clung to every second of every day.

“Now, I believe you said Persian food?” Rose pulled back and grabbed the hanger with one hand, his own hand with her other. “Let’s grab Jack and eat. I’m starving.”

She looked over her shoulder and winked. “And we definitely need to continue where we left off, hmmm?”

The Doctor grinned. _Oh yes._

 ********  
How he missed it, the Doctor had no idea. He’d been in that bloody fitting room with Rose when she tried on the dress. He stood there and watched her model it. Looking back, all he could really remember was how it clung to her body—which it still did. Beautifully so.

“How did I miss that bloody slit?” he muttered.

Rose danced with Jack and with every move, the slit that ran up the side of her dress showed entirely too much leg. And thigh. And hip.

He scowled, and Rose looked over her shoulder, smile wide. She winked and through their bond laughed.

 _But you’re the only one who’ll see what’s underneath_ , she promised. Jack twirled her again, sending the skirt flaring out and her leg temptingly bare to every gaze in the room. _Or what’s not underneath._


End file.
